The bank holiday seaside runs were always a source of pleasure for us, before the run “proper” to meet at the Nightingale and be amongst a few hundred like minded leather clad, motor bikin’ rock n rollers was my idea of heaven. The Wild Angels would be on stage to complete the picture and to get us into the mood of what lay ahead. Just to hang back in the car park and gaze in awe as the enormous array of machines took to the road, thundering, heavy, and loud.
I must admit that I found the pace a little on the slow side due to the amount of us clogging up the roads and then as we neared the seaside, only to be broken down into smaller groups by the Police. I seldom stayed once the destination had been reached, usually to turn the bike around, point it for home and blast away, I was at my happiest riding my bike. I didn’t want to sleep under some rotten old pier on the seafront only to awake to find that I was on the breakfast menu of the mod fraternity.
Strange as it may seem but there always seemed to be other like minded ton-up boys either on the road, at coffee stalls or all night cafes as I sped home through the darkness from the seaside runs.
Things were changing rapidly through 1968, our haunts were becoming low on numbers, some places didn’t seem to welcome us anymore. From the heydays when there were hundreds of bikes at the Cellar on a Sunday afternoon, we were now down to a measley handful. In fact prior to the Cellar closing its doors for good, we were blessed by the local council doing their bit by laying double yellow lines right outside! Black paint was applied to the yellow, but to no avail, twas the end of an era. The Busy Bee was in the throes of going up market, the Ace was to become a tyre fitting depot. We still had The Manor, Jacks at Maidenhead, The Salt Box etc. but it was looking bleak for the ton up boy, the coffee bar cowboy. I don’t want to analyse it thats all been done before, suffice to say that it was the end of a golden era.
That’s all folks,